


Heat of Elvhen

by a_pondicus



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_pondicus/pseuds/a_pondicus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris broke it off with Hawke, and now is about to go into his mating cycle. Rather than burdening Hawke with this, he goes to Anders to get a suppressant. It ends up not working, Hawke finds out about the heat, and the rest, as they say, is history.</p><p>This is from an RP thread with Seluvia on tumblr. Sel writes the Hawke portions and I write the Fen portions. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suppressant

Fenris had known for weeks that his time was drawing near. The very sight of Hawke had been having a very… interesting effect on a certain part of his anatomy, and he found himself with an even shorter fuse than the usual. He had been putting off his visit to Darktown to get the suppressant potion for as long as he could; Maker knows he doesn’t want to deal with that awkward and aggravating conversation.

Unfortunately, he could put it off no longer. The last time he went on a mission with Hawke, his sensations were overwhelmed with feedback. The smell of him made Fenris throb, his pleasing tenor voice and sly smile putting to the test Fenris’ reserves of restraint. He felt as if he barely made it home alive. He had been avoiding the man for days, and he the moment he heard that Hawke had headed out of the city, Fenris grudgingly made his way to Darktown.

With a sigh, he pushed open the door to Anders’ clinic with a creak, drawing the attention of the mage. The contempt on his face was plain to see, and Fenris groaned inwardly.

"I am not here for bickering, mage," Fenris said, cutting off any possible quip from Anders. "You have been here many a year, treated many elves,  I can assume you’ve heard of the Uthen Vhenan’ara*?" Anders’ look of surprise told Fenris what he needed to know. "I need a suppressant. I have put it off for too long already, my time is nearly upon me." Fenris shifted uncomfortably, but stood his ground.

"But, why don’t you just tell Hawke? He’d certainly be more than happy to-" Anders began with surprise and derision intermingling in his voice.

"For your information, mage," Fenris spat, "I have ended it with Hawke. I see no need to trouble him with something that I have endured alone in the past." Fenris shuddered at the memory.  During his time among the fog warriors, he had entered his first heat. He wasn’t even aware what it was until one of the warriors told him what was happening. He later realized that Danarius had been giving him suppressants so as not to deal with that little hiccup, and after so many years being suppressed, his heat lashed out with a vengeance. He pleaded with the warriors he stayed with to restrain him until it ended, so he did not hurt himself or anyone else. Unfortunately, they had no suppressants to give him. The excruciation of it was only rivaled by the small amount he remembered of his branding ritual.  He had no desire to go through that again.

"Then why not Isabela? She clearly has taken an interest in you; she’d be more than happy to help."

"Isabela has taken an interest in far too many things for my liking, from what I hear," he said, biting back his rage at the suggestion.  Anders was only trying to help. He couldn’t possibly know… The first, and last, time Hawke and Fenris had lain together, Fenris had been in the preliminary stage of his heat. His strong feelings for Hawke, coupled with the timing of their act… They had been mated. Fenris was Hawke’s, forever. There would never be anyone else for him.

Apparently, Anders was not entirely without conscience, for he found a vial of murky green fluid and handed it over to Fenris without further antagonization. He did add in a gentle voice he had never aimed at Fenris before, “Regardless of what happened between you and Hawke, you need not suffer this alone. He deserves to know, and maybe he can even help you.” Fenris snarled in response.

"Who I choose to be intimate with is none of your concern, abomination," and with that he turned on his heel. As he reached the door, he turned and fixed Anders with a stare that actually sent shivers down his spine. "If you breathe as so much of a word of this… I will kill you."

 

He reached his home before nightfall, and took the vial as soon as he was behind closed doors.  As day turned to night, and night to morning, he realized that it was _just_ this side of too late.  The suppressant would temper the effects, but he had already entered his Uthen Vhenan’ara.

Obviously, he would need to lock his doors, and turn Hawke away for the next week or so, until his danger had passed.


	2. Talkative Abominations and Dropping Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke finds out about Fenris' heat, and confronts him. He does not find what he expected.

“Damn it!!! This is bloody fucking ridiculous! The whole blasted group is falling apart!!” Hawke glared at his team as he wiped the blood from a shallow cut slanting down his chest, just barely missing a nipple. It wasn’t as though Hawke couldn’t defend himself at close range, but he was certainly more skilled at toasting enemies that were a few paces off, as the attacking bandit had proven when she tried to bury the wicked-looking point of a dagger in Hawke’s chest. He’d barely been able to deflect her in time.

Over the years since he’d arrived in Kirkwall, Hawke had learned to tailor his fighting style to his party members, and they had done the same with him. He was comfortable with all of them, able to switch members of the group out and fight just as well with any of them at a moment’s notice. Or so Hawke had thought. Without noticing, Hawke had been adjusting his fighting patterns in a dozen subtle ways, matching himself to one specific, and now missing, party member.

_Fenris, where **are** you?_

The last two missions Hawke had needed to go on, the elf hadn’t been available. Hawke was used to Fenris needing his space at times, and it wasn’t uncommon to see him disappear into the mansion for a day or two at a time, only the sound of snarled Tevene and shattering wine bottles giving a clue that he was still alive inside.

Normally, Hawke was content enough to back off when it seemed Fenris needed time, especially in the wake of what had happened between them. But without Fenris at his back, Hawke was severely impaired. He’d grown so used to the presence of the elf, to backing him up and being protected in turn, that without him, it was like fighting with a gaping wound; Hawke was just good enough not to get killed, but not quite good enough to avoid harm. The bottom line was, Hawke _needed_ Fenris. And by the sweet, saintly knickers of blessed Andraste herself, Hawke was going to  _have_ Fenris, if he had to drag him drunk from the mansion himself.

“Fenris should be here!” Hawke continued to fume, turning to Aveline, Varric, and Merrill in turn for validation. “This isn’t right! You, you don’t want to kill anyone,” he snapped, pointing his staff accusingly at Aveline. “You aren’t really paying attention,” Varric was accused. “And as for you, Merrill! You’re doing your best, sweetheart, I know you are.” He paced a few agitated steps back and forth, staff tapping the ground as he walked.

“Hawke, that isn’t fair. I’ve always done my duty for you, and you know that,” Aveline protested, quiet and firm as she always was.

Hawke sighed and strapped his staff to his back, deflating. “I know. My apologies, Aveline. I’m lucky to have you here. I’m simply frustrated. We’ll head back now.” He waved his companions on, bringing up the rear for once as he dragged his feet.

“That heat business is really throwing you off, isn’t it, Hawke?” The dwarf had dropped back to talk to the party leader, seemingly unbothered by Hawke’s earlier outburst.

It was warm out, but not unseasonably so. Hawke tilted his head and made a curious noise. Normally, Varric at least made sure to make sense. Information was his trade of choice, after all.

“The heat. Our favorite broody elf, going into heat? He went to get a suppressant from Blondie two days ago.” Understanding dawned, and Varric made a sweeping gesture as if wiping the topic away. “Never mind, you’ve got enough to worry about. I thought you of all people would know already. Forget I said anything.”

Hawke didn’t respond, examining the past two days in a new light. Now that he knew more, it was all falling into place. No wonder Fenris was avoiding him, he probably wasn’t feeling well. Hawke didn’t pretend to know exactly what heat was like for an elf, as most of their race was unwilling to discuss such intimate details with a human. He knew enough to understand why Fenris wouldn’t want company from just anyone. But Hawke…he wasn’t just  _anyone_ , was he? Why wouldn’t Fenris come to him with this? Would he really prefer to suffer?

_Obviously, yes._

Angry all over again, Hawke headed directly for Fenris’ mansion when they reached Hightown, sending his companions off to see to their own business. “Open the door! I know you’re there! Let me in!”

  
  


The past two days had gone by at an absolute crawl.  Fenris spent most of his time submerged to the nose in ice-cold water; it soothed his skin somewhat, which felt like it was being continually scorched by a fireball. Everything hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. The light that seeped in through his curtains pierced his eyes as though the sun had decided its sole purpose was to burn his retinas. Any touch was agony; the brush of his skin against his bedsheets was excruciating, the feel of the bathtub beneath him made him want to cry. Any auditory stimulation felt as though his eardrums were being torn out. And worse yet, he hardly got any reprieve from the aching erection that caused him physical pain to sport.  He couldn’t even _touch_ it to relieve himself due to the state of his skin’s oversensitivity. As long as he possibly could, Fenris stayed submerged, shudders wracking his body, whimpers and soft cries escaping his mouth.

When Hawke’s raised voice reached him, Fenris let out a dry sob.

_Maker, no._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Fenris vowed to murder the abomination. He sunk lower into the water, hoping Hawke would just go away, though his very soul was vibrating with the realization that he was so close. The thought of drowning himself briefly crossed his mind as Hawke carried on outside. With a low keening sound, he raised himself slowly from the tub, tripping down the stairs and stumbling to the door, where he promptly fell to his knees and collapsed against the door.

"Hawke, please," Fenris whimpered, his voice cracked and rough from pain and lack of use. "Just go. I can’t… I _can’t_ …" His voice broke further as tears began filling his eyes, occasionally falling to contour his cheek, meeting at his sharply pointed chin and falling to the floor.

 

Ice dropped into Hawke’s gut at the broken sound of Fenris’ voice. It held more pain than Hawke had ever heard, and they’d been in many a battle together. Immediately, he lowered his voice, just loud enough to be heard through the thick wood of the door. “Fenris, please let me in. Please, let me help you,” Hawke implored, both hands resting on the door, as if he could touch it tenderly and the sensation would transmit to the elf. “I won’t claim to know why you didn’t come to me after you went to Anders, if you knew you were going to suffer, if you knew the suppressant wasn’t going to work. It doesn’t matter now.”

Maker take Hawke if he ever tried to subvert Fenris’ right to control his own body and his own cycles. Now that the suppressant had proved ineffective, however, Hawke was frantic to get in, to do whatever he could to help. “Just let me in. I could sit outside your bedroom door and read to you. Make you a cup of tea. Help you to the bath. Whatever you need. However I can make this easier, by the Maker, Fenris, just _tell me how to help you_.”

 

"Didn’t… know," Fenris managed to choke out. "Thought I… had more time." Even Hawke’s proximity was enough to lessen the pain slightly, but he was already two days into his heat.

In truth, Fenris hadn’t gone to Hawke because he felt he no longer had the right to. He was the one who left, he was the one who ended it. But now that he was here, so close, so desperate to help… whatever resistance or pride he had withered away. It took a massive amount of energy to raise his arm until his fingers brushed against the latch. He fumbled with it for several long moments before giving up, slumping to the floor in defeat.

"Venhedis, door won’t open," Fenris said tiredly, hissing in pain as he curled into a ball on the floor. "I can’t move, Hawke…"

Fenris knew in the recess of his mind that he was being pitiful and pathetic, but the throbs of pain cresting over him was overriding everything else. He didn’t even think about the fact that he was mostly nude and still dripping wet from the bathtub as he laid on the dingy, dirty floor.

 

“Alright, stay where you are, love. I’m going to break your window, just hold on for me.” Hawke moved to a window on the side of the building, gloved hand making quick work of the glass. He climbed in and brushed any glass shards free of his clothes, spying Fenris lying on the ground. “Oh, love. I wish I’d known. I wish I’d been here. I should have been.” It was like the last few months had never happened, and Hawke was right back where he’d been, heart aching and melting simultaneously. “I won’t leave you again unless you tell me to, I swear it.”

He crouched on the floor near Fenris, sweeping the hair from his eyes. “You’re soaking, so I’m betting you’ve got a bath drawn already. Let me help you back into it, wash some of the grime off of you. I’m going to lift you now, alright?” He waited until he saw Fenris’ weak nod, then lifted him up in his arms, carrying him up the stairs as if Fenris was his bride. “Varric would get a kick out of all this sweeping,” Hawke joked, trying to distract the warrior from all the pain he was feeling. “It’s just what he’s been hoping for.”

In the bathing chamber, Hawke deposited Fenris oh-so-carefully into the tub, soaking his own upper body with the water. “The cold should help bring down your fever. Close your eyes and tilt your head back.” When Fenris complied, Hawke cupped his hands in the water and slowly poured some over his head, rewetting his hair and washing it free of dirt and debris. While he did this, he was thinking. Why hadn’t he ever noticed this before? From what Hawke understood, the Elvhen cycle was fairly regular. So why was this the first time he’d been aware of it?

It was possible that he had. The symptoms, taken on their own, were easy to miss. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Fenris feverish, or weak, or in pain. All at once, that was new. “Is this the first time that this has happened to you, since you gained your freedom?” No, that couldn’t be possible. Fenris had clearly been through this before, at least once. But when? Most elves seemed to go through this a few times a year, on average. Several months ago…No, that made no sense, Fenris had seemed fine then. The only thing that had happened was…”No,” Hawke whispered under his breath, too softly to hear. “That isn’t possible.” Had that been what had prompted their first, and last night together? Either way, this was not the time to interrogate Fenris about it. There were more important things to focus on now. “Have you eaten anything today?”

 

Hawke’s touch was like a soothing balm against his feverish skin. The longer they remained in contact, the more the pain seeped away. He nuzzled into Hawke’s arms as the taller man carried him through the house, and coughed out a laugh at Hawke’s words.

As painful at is was to be redeposited into the tub, Fenris was imminently grateful for Hawke’s presence and his efforts to clean him once more. As Hawke posed his question, Fenris found that the pain had receded enough that he could shake his head slowly and answer in a raspy voice, “No, the first… was with the fog warriors.” Though his speech was halting, Fenris was pleased to notice that he could at least string a sentence together now. “It was… horrid. This… mild in comparison, and would be, even without… suppressant.” Well, maybe not quite a sentence.  

Fenris looked at Hawke in mild confusion at the question of food.

"Food? No. I can’t remember… not since before, I think…" He hadn’t eaten since long before he went to Darktown for his suppressant, and it had been almost as long since he had anything to drink. "I don’t know that I could keep anything down."  He leaned into Hawke’s touch, eyes slipping closed.  "I am sorry, Hawke." He grew more clear-headed with each minute that Hawke touched him, the pain receding slowly to tolerable levels. "I had hoped not to burden you further, though I am… grateful you’ve come." Faintly, Fenris hoped that Hawke would chalk up his slight recovery to the water, and not his presence, but with his luck it was doubtful. He took a heavy breath, gathering the energy to speak again, pausing for long moments between each sentence. "The suppressant has tempered the symptoms somewhat. If I had waited any longer… it would have been much worse."  Fenris took Hawke’s hand with a weak squeeze, looking at him tiredly now that pain wasn’t glazing his eyes. "I am very grateful for your presence. I apologize for being such a burden, I did not intend for you to find out. I am going to crush that abomination’s heart," he finished weakly, unable to muster the energy to put venom into his voice.

 

“I’d like to prepare some broth for you, just to get something into your belly,” Hawke insisted gently, combing his fingers through the damp white tresses. “It can’t be easy on your body to go through all this, weakened by hunger.” Either the water was incredibly soothing to Fenris, or Hawke’s touch was more healing than he realized. Considering the very nature of the issue Fenris was having, it made some sense that being touched by another body would be at least somewhat relieving. If it soothed the elf, Hawke would continue to touch him as much as he liked.

He smiled fondly as he squeezed back, bringing Fenris’ hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the palm of it. “You are no burden, Fenris. I’ll remain here as long as you need me. I see no reason for you to suffer alone, when you’re so obviously relieved by company.” He’d put together that much, at least. What wasn’t yet clear was whether it was his company Fenris hungered for, or whether anyone would do. In his heart, Hawke hoped that it was himthat Fenris needed, and that no one else could take his place.

“You should know that Anders didn’t tell me. Varric did. I’m sure that isn’t much better, but it sounds like Anders kept to the word of your agreement, if not to the spirit of it.” Dipping his hand into the water to find it had grown tepid, Hawke rose from where he’d gone to his knees beside the tub. “You seem better, the fever’s gone down. If it rises again, I’ll draw you another cold bath. For now, I’d like to get you dried off and into bed.”

Hawke turned to get a towel, a brief pulse of magic warming the fabric. Draping it over his shoulder, Hawke helped the elf to stand, getting him out of the bathtub and standing uneasily on the floor. “Hold onto me. Let me know if you feel you're about to fall.” Hawke began at Fenris’ head, fluffing his hair with the towel as he dried him off, moving down his body while politely averting his eyes from Fenris’ nudity. “Brace yourself for more sweeping,” Hawke warned, catching the elf up in his arms to carry him to his bed. After he’d bundled Fenris beneath the sheets and blankets, Hawke kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be back in just a moment.” Hawke was no cook, but he could manage broth and bread.

Fenris’ kitchen had grown better stocked over the years, and Hawke found the remains of Fenris’ dinner from the night before, a hunk of cooked beef and half a loaf of bread. The meat, Hawke plunked into a pot of cold water, boiling it with a bit of magic and leaving it a while. He performed similar actions with tea and warmed some of the bread while he was waiting. Setting up a tray with broth, tea, and bread, Hawke brought his offerings back upstairs, setting the tray on the table. “If this goes down well, I’ll make you porridge. That’s what I always had growing up when I was sick.” He brought Fenris a cup of broth, sitting down on the edge of the bed while he waited to see if the elf might need help with it.

 

Fenris did his best to crack a smile, but it barely lifted his lips. The pain returned slightly as Hawke left, but now that he was back at Fenris’ side, he slowly began to feel more himself. With shaky hands, he took the cup, enjoying the simple pleasure of Hawke’s fingers brushing against his. He managed to steady himself enough to take a sip without his shaking hands sloshing it all down his front. After he had made his way through half the cup, he handed it back to Hawke, realizing only then that he had been unconsciously leaning toward the man the entire time.

He took the man’s hand, barely resisting the urge to pull Hawke toward him. “Thank you, Hawke,” he said, sighing tiredly as he settled into the mattress. “I think I shall rest now.  Will… will you be here when I wake?” Trepidation crept into his tone. He knew he forfeited the right to ask, but Hawke had done this much for him already. He never got an answer, for exhaustion won out and dragged him to unconsciousness. He swore that before he slipped away, though, he felt his love’s lips pressed tenderly to his forehead.

 

Hawke had indeed kissed Fenris’ forehead again, tucking the blankets around him. “I’ll be back, love,” he whispered before heading out the door. He’d managed to care for Fenris so far, but he was no expert on this sort of thing. Hawke needed help, and the best person to ask would be another elf. Since he just so happened to have a friend who he knew would do her best to offer whatever advice she could, Hawke turned toward the Alienage to see Merrill.

He knocked on her door, coming inside before she answered. Hawke had a nasty habit of invading the space of his friends, but thus far, no one had seemed to mind. Finding Merrill doing the same thing she was always doing, Hawke cleared his throat. “Merrill, I have to ask you about something rather…delicate.” He explained the situation with Fenris, outlining everything that had happened so far. “I need to know if there is something I should do, or should not do, in order to help him. I’d rather he not suffer.”

 

Merrill turned her head, a smile gracing her expression as Hawke walked through her door.

"Oh, Hawke! This is a lovely surprise. It’s not your birthday, is it? I haven’t forgotten some important occasion?" She stood, dusting off her tunic and offering Hawke a seat, taking the one across from him. She blushed heavily while he explained Fenris’ predicament, but smiled for him.

"Oh, Hawke, you and Fenris have been mated, that is so sweet. I hope I can find my own mate one day,” she said with a wistful tone. “Since he obviously hasn’t told you, I really don’t understand him sometimes, skin-to-skin contact with your mate reduces the pain. Obviously, mating would outright end it, but that’s between the two of you. Obviously. Am I babbling again?”

 

“Yes, yes, we’re mated. Wait, we’re _what_?” Hawke stood up quickly enough that he knocked back his chair. “Mated? What does that mean, exactly?” This changed _everything_ , and cast the events of the night they’d been together in a new light. Was that why Fenris had initially been so aggressive, but had gentled as the night wore on? Hawke had sworn that night, without a doubt, the elf loved him, that there was something special between them. When he’d left a few hours later, Hawke’s hopes had all but dissipated.

If that was true, and they were truly mated…It meant that Fenris had known. He’d had to have known. But he’d still left. He’d still been prepared to suffer his heat alone, rather than telling Hawke. Trying to pretend that didn’t twist a knife into the very core of his heart, Hawke focused on what Merrill was saying, nodding along at the appropriate times. “If we have sex, he’ll get better?” Hawke asked, still fighting the idea that Fenris was in heat, not sick with some mysterious illness. He had to remind himself over and over that Fenris wasn’t ill, he was experiencing a normal function of his healthy body.

  
  


Merrill’s eyes widened as the implication of Hawke’s response dawned on her.

"He… Did he not tell you?  Elves tend not to… dally, physically, especially when they’re nearing their heat cycle. Things get… complicated.  When an elf has strong feelings for someone, and they become… intimate… the greater the chance of them being mated. If the intimacy occurs during or very near their cycle, it’s almost guaranteed. An unsuppressed cycle is absolute torture, but it’s that much more so if the elf has already been mated and doesn’t return to their partner… I swear, I don’t understand him."

Merrill looked up, sympathy shining in her eyes. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, Hawke. If the two of you become intimate, his cycle will become completed and he’ll recover very quickly.  But if you don’t, he will be in excruciating pain for at least another week. Once you’ve been bonded, your cycles become longer and more brutal if left unchecked. All I can tell you is that the more you touch him, the less he’ll hurt. Any more than that is up to you.  I hope it all works out, Hawke. I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

 

“I…thank you Merrill. I have to go.” Hawke couldn’t spare more than a few words for his helpful friend, mind spinning with all he’d just learned. This was terrible. Hawke had to get back at once. Practically running back to Fenris’ mansion, Hawke slipped inside, heading up to the bedroom to check on the elf. Finding him still sleeping, brow furrowed as though he was in pain, Hawke remembered what Merrill had told him. “Touch…I need to touch him.” Sitting beside him on the bed, Hawke stroked Fenris’ face and neck. Fenris rolled toward him in his sleep, curling around him as much as he could. “More?”

Hawke undressed a bit, laying aside the clothing that was still damp with bathwater. Naked to the waist, he laid down beside Fenris, pulling the elf into his arms. The blanket still separated them, and Hawke still wore both his trousers and boots, but Fenris seemed comforted by the closeness all the same. “There now, here I am,” Hawke soothed, rubbing the elf’s back. “Right where I said I’d be. Rest easy.”

 

 


	3. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris wakes up, full horny-mode engaged. The rest, as they say, is history. 
> 
> Lots of explicit gay elf/human sex in this chapter, but I think you knew that was coming if you've been reading this.

At some point during his sleep, Fenris began to feel warm, full and complete. He nuzzled into Hawke in his sleep.  Being surrounded by the scent of his mate, of Hawke, his dreams turned in a much more… interesting direction. With Hawke’s presence, the pain had receded enough for the main drive of the heat to emerge.  Fenris, still unconscious, began gently grinding his hips against Hawke, soft moans escaping him to ghost across Hawke’s neck. The air grew thick with pheromones now that Fenris’ hunger had returned, and in his half-awake, lust-addled stupor, Fenris began attacking Hawke’s neck, whispering moans of the man’s name in between nibbles. All thoughts of distance and guilt over burdening Hawke were driven from his mind at the overcharged pleasure from the friction of every thrust.

 

Just lying beside Fenris was incredibly relaxing. This was exactly what Hawke hadn’t had much opportunity to do, the night they’d been together. He’d fallen asleep quickly after they’d finished, and woken to Fenris already dressed and ready to leave. There had been no time, no chance to just hold the elf close to him, no expectations in mind, nowhere to be. It felt good, and Hawke fell into the easy rhythm of petting down Fenris’ back, falling into a light doze himself.

 

He came fully awake with a soft sneeze, a moan following shortly after.  Fenris was doing something delicious with his mouth that made Hawke’s skin tingle, and he suddenly smelled absolutely incredible. Hawke buried his face in the fragrant curve between neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply. The scent of his elf made Hawke’s head spin in a distracting, but altogether pleasant way. He kissed the soft skin, hands beginning to wander toward the most interesting bits of his lover. _Lover_? No! He wasn’t, _they_ weren’t. No matter what Merrill had said, this was wrong.

 

“Fenris, no. We can’t. Love, you’re out of your head.” Hawke held Fenris by the shoulders and pushed him to arm’s length. “You wouldn’t be wanting this if it wasn’t for the heat. Listen to me. Do you understand? It’s not real.”

 

Fenris became more awake, but no less aroused as Hawke began to return the affections. He began to attempt to straddle his mage, but Hawke was pushing him away, spouting complete nonsense.

 

"You talk far too much, Hawke," Fenris ground out as he attempted to place Hawke’s hands in more _interesting_ areas. “I’ve wanted you since the day I met you. And that has only increased every moment thereafter.”  The elf tried again to climb on top of Hawke, but growled in frustration as the man continued to keep him away. “Not real? Is the sun in the sky real? Are you real? It’s nonsense. I am yours, so cease your protestations and _take_ me.”  If he had the clarity, Fenris would be surprised that he managed to not only string a sentence together but sound entirely competent. Of course, Hawke wasn’t liable to believe anything from him at the moment, truth or not.

 

The temptation was too strong, all Hawke wanted to do was lie on his back and let Fenris ride him as he so clearly wanted to do. Hawke had to put space between them, or he was going to break. Aching and uncoordinated, he stumbled out of bed, ankle twisting in the blankets as he tried to retreat a few steps. He collapsed to the floor, catching himself on his hands before he could knock his head on the ground, and got up, shaking his leg free. “Fenris, you’re making no sense. You’ve never said…not since that night. I thought we were finished. We are finished, you aren’t in your right mind. Please hear me.”

 

When Fenris showed no sign of understanding, instead falling back to the bed, a writhing, alluring, wonderful distraction of an elf, Hawke panicked. He couldn’t hold on if this continued, but he also couldn’t justify leaving Fenris to his fate. Frantically glancing around the room, Hawke spotted the cup of tea he’d brought up earlier, now gone cold with time. Unsure of anything else to do, Hawke snatched the cup and threw the entire contents over the elf. “Snap _out_ of it!” I _can’t take any more._

 

Fenris very slowly raised his hand to wipe the tea from his face, flinging it off his hand in contempt. The aura he was exuding now was like the calm before the storm.  He let out a very long stream of Tevene curses as he fixed his eyes on Hawke.  

 

"What in the  _blazes_  did you do that for?” He asked quietly, seething in anger now that the hold of his lust was loosened. “Making a fool of myself is not just cause to dump tea all over me!”

 

“Fenris, listen to me,” Hawke dropped the cup and held up his hands, taking a hasty step backward. “I just wanted you to return to your senses. You’re not making a fool of yourself, you’re simply being manipulated by your body.” He had the nerve to try a smaller version of his typical winning smile, hoping that since he wasn’t dead yet, perhaps Fenris could be convinced to continue to spare him. “You can think now, can’t you? You see, I was only trying to help. I can go back to Anders. Get you a sleeping potion. You could rest until you’re feeling better.”

 

Fenris sighed heavily, his tongue still loosened even though his drawers were unfortunately not. “Just because I would not act on my desires does not mean I do not have them, you silly mage. Cowardice was what pushed me from your arms that night, not lack of desire. And pride and guilt was what kept me there. I feared you would not want me, for causing you such pain, and I feared looking a fool for changing my mind. Since I am temporarily unafflicted by either, I see no issue.  That is, obviously, if you still want me.  Given the choice between your company, and physical pain every time you depart, and the aforementioned reasons of stupidity for leaving… Dear Andraste I’m rambling.  My point is, I am trying to say that I have reevalutated my choices, and it is not just because of the heat. Unless you no longer desire me, what now holds you back?”  Lust again glinted in Fenris’ eyes, deepened his voice, and tensed his muscles. “Perhaps I need to further and more explicitly state my desires, my Champion?”

 

“Of course I desire you, Fenris. I’m not dead, and I’d have to be not to respond to all…this.” Hawke tried to keep his eyes firmly attached to the ceiling, but kept sneaking helpless glances at the elf, finding him dangerously attractive and nearly impossible to resist. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t take advantage of you in this state. How can I know that you’re certain, when I know that your body is compelling you to do these things? I do love you, Fenris, and I would do much to keep you from suffering. I’ll hold you as much as you like, and stay near you to keep the pain away. I’ll keep broth on the table, and tea in the pot, and run baths as you need them. Anything I can do to aid you, I will do, but please, you must stop speaking of being together. It’s hardly fair.” Hawke felt as though he was about to snap to pieces, the nervous lust was winding his body so tight. This heat seemed too good to be true, offering up all of Hawke’s secret wishes at once. And now that he was faced with the opportunity, he seemed unable to seize it.

 

Even through his heat-induced haze, Fenris saw that his words were hurting Hawke. He wished he hadn’t been so idiotic and pushed the mage away. He sighed heavily once again, wanting nothing more than to rut against the mattress until he found his release. This was going to be a long week.

 

"Very well, Hawke. It seems that at least for now, there is nothing I can say to convince you of the truth. I suppose that is my own doing."  He gave yet another weighted sigh. "I shall do my best not to proposition you further until this has passed.  Will you at least come lie with me?" Fenris threw the blankets over himself, attempting to ignore his very healthy erection and held up an opening for Hawke to crawl in. "I have denied you that for far too long."

 

As he watched Hawke, lust still clear in his gaze, he added, “Do not think that I won’t see to it that you have me once my head is clear, mage. I am yours, and attempting to pretend otherwise was folly on my part.  Now come. Lie with me.”

 

Hawke hesitated before nodding and sliding beneath the covers, compelled since Fenris was holding them open so invitingly. There was so much warm, smooth skin beneath those blankets, but the bed was too small for Hawke to hold himself away for long. Slowly, by degrees, he began to relax, working his arm around Fenris to shift closer to him. “I only want to be certain,” he said in hushed tones, lips against Fenris’ temple. “I want to know, with no doubts, that you _want_ me, with no illness or cycle or condition forcing the issue. I waited years for you, Fenris, before that night. And I’ve waited months since.” He kissed his temple, and then nuzzled sweetly at his ear. “I will gladly wait days to be sure of your affections.” The pheromones were an additional complication that he really didn’t need, having effects on Hawke’s body that he was trying to both ignore and hide by keeping space between his hips and Fenris’ body.

 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this? You knew, that night, that we’d been…mated. Why would you keep this from me?” Hawke had to admit, if only to himself, that it hurt that Fenris had hidden such a huge development in their relationship, and had left before it came to light.

 

Fenris’ heart turned to lead, and he found he couldn’t look at Hawke. His mind was racing. Did he work it out? Did someone tell him? He supposed it didn’t matter any longer if Hawke knew, and resignedly pressed his forehead into Hawke’s shoulder.

 

"I did not realize until it was done. And then the memories returned… And just as quickly fled. It was all too much, too fast. I was scared. I committed myself to you for the rest of my days, and there was no taking that back. But I wasn’t ready. I had fought so hard for my freedom, and the thought of losing it, even to one such as you… It terrified me. And I feared how you would react if I told you… I just feared. I’m sorry, Hawke. It was foolish to push you away."

 

He had regretted it for every moment they were apart, and he regretted that it now gave Hawke cause to doubt his sincerity.

 

“I would never hinder your freedom, Fenris. Rather, I would fight by your side to protect it.” Hawke sighed, fingers searching out tight knots in Fenris’ back and beginning to work them out. “It’s over now, and done. We’ve got more pressing matters to consider in the coming week.” He no longer blamed Fenris for leaving, if he ever had. Having Fenris back in his arms was too good to waste with focusing on things that could not ever be changed.

 

“Try to rest again. You can’t have slept enough, you were only resting for an hour or two.” Hawke tipped the elf’s head up and laid a chaste kiss upon his lips, then another on the inviting point of his chin, lips tingling against the markings. Another kiss followed, then Hawke pressed his mouth to Fenris’ throat, warm breath ghosting over his skin. “Apologies,” he breathed, putting space between them again. “You smell incredible, it’s making rational thought more difficult than usual.”

 

Fenris could do little but groan under the inviting caresses of his lover’s mouth. He arched into the kiss, his hips snapping against Hawke’s as his hands scratched delicate, pink lines down Hawke’s torso, where they teasingly began dipping into Hawke’s trousers when he was pushed away once more.

 

"Hawwwwke," Fenris keened, managing to climb atop the mage as he’d wanted to do from the beginning, grinding his hips roughly against Hawke’s, his head falling back with another moan of Hawke’s name as their erections slid against one another through their trousers. His hands were roving over every inch of exposed skin Hawke had to offer, hunger in his eyes.

 

For several blissful seconds, Hawke was right there with Fenris, grinding and squeezing the curve of the elf’s ass, rocking up against him. He didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. “Fenris,” he gasped, craning his neck to invite kisses, groaning into the elf’s mouth when they were given. Conscience began to trill deep in his mind, slowly getting louder as Hawke remembered his promise, remembered why it was that they couldn’t continue. “Enough. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, and I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He rolled Fenris off of him and onto the bed, scrambling away to pant quietly, body throbbing all over.  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll do better. We both need to calm down.”

 

Fenris growled and pounced on Hawke, undeterred by the man’s weak protests. He continued kissing every inch of skin he could reach, biting sharply in between kisses.

 

"If you really mean that, Hawke, you’ll have to restrain me. I can only restrain myself so much."

 

As if to prove his point, Fenris licked the shell of Hawke’s ear, tugging the man’s hair roughly to provide better access to his neck.

 

 

Hawke’s resolve wavered yet again, his eyes sliding closed as Fenris attacked his neck. Making a sound embarrassingly close to a whimper, Hawke firmly pushed Fenris away. He had to be quick. Fenris had him well outclassed when it came to strength and speed both, but Hawke was hoping the lust was sufficiently clouding the otherwise sharp mind of his lover. He pressed Fenris back two fast steps, to the bed, where Hawke grabbed the most worn of the blankets, tearing off a long section of it. Twisting this into a hasty rope, Hawke wound it around Fenris’ wrists and secured it, dipping to kiss him thoroughly in an effort to keep him distracted while Hawke tied him to one of the wooden slats that made up the headboard.

 

 

“I know that won’t hold you, should you decide to truly struggle. But perhaps this will serve to remind us both that self-control is necessary.” Hawke laid a gentle hand in the center of Fenris’ chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart, his own pulse jumping in answer. “Would you like me to fetch another cup of tea?”

 

"Blight take your self control, Hawke," he growled, jerking at his restraints half heartedly. "If you pour any more tea on me, you will regret it instantaneously and forever," Fenris threatened, though it didn’t carry much weight; he was too busy staring hungrily at the very obvious bulge in Hawke’s drawers. He licked his lips and couldn’t help the way his hips canted up at the promise those drawers, tenting beyond belief, was whispering to him.

 

“Stop staring at me like that, Fenris. You make me want to do terrible things to you.” 

 

Hawke couldn’t help himself, he dropped a hand to the bulge in his own trousers and squeezed, hips rolling helplessly into the stimulation. He didn’t want to take advantage of Fenris, but Hawke saw no reason why he couldn’t make Fenris feel good. “Relax. If you struggle, I’ll stop at once.” Scratching down the center of Fenris’ chest with blunt nails, Hawke rubbed teasingly over his covered erection, molding the fabric to the shape of him, cloth sticking to the bit of dampness flowing from the tip. “Do you ache?” Hawke asked, as if he didn’t know. That hand slipped beneath, pressing his longest finger just between Fenris’ cheeks. “Here, too? Is it awful?” There was some wicked thing in Hawke’s eyes now, lusty and a little wild. “Tell me, and I’ll soothe you if I can.”

 

When Hawke stroked himself, even just for that one moment, Fenris moaned again, licking his lips once more. He wanted to taste Hawke, wanted the man in every conceivable fashion. When the mage reached down and gripped him, his eyes glazed over with lust and a very needy “ _Hawke_ ,” tumbled from his lips.  When Hawke began to tease him, his eyes, filled with lust and just a hint of desperation, snapped to the taller man’s.

 

“ _Maker_ , Hawke, _please_ ,” Fenris groaned, wound so tightly he feared he might snap. “I do not care what you do, as long as you do something, or I may die.”  He licked his lips again, and after a moment’s thought added, “I want to taste you.”

 

“Let’s have no death just yet.” Hawke growled softly, sorely tempted to take what Fenris was offering. That inviting mouth, reddened and soft and open, was almost too much for Hawke to turn away from. He managed to resist using all the strength of will that he possessed, taking down Fenris’ smalls to distract himself from his own need. This was so much more challenging than refusing a demon of the Fade. They needed to take lessons in temptation from this elf. “Relax. I’ll see to you. Anything you need.” Hoping to distract them both, Hawke wrapped his hand around Fenris’ cock, the tip darkened to an angry red that was, Hawke thought, the most delicious looking color he’d ever seen. He wanted to pull that plummy head into his mouth to see if it was exactly as melting hot as it looked, but that would lead to other things, and one of them had to have some control. For the life of him, Hawke couldn’t remember any longer why control was important, only that it was, and he was determined. His touch was skillful, hands made dexterous and sensitive from years of carefully weaving magic. Everything he knew about pleasing Fenris with his hands, Hawke used now, one hand massaging his heavy balls while the other expertly worked his erection.

 

A high, broken keening sound erupted from Fenris the moment Hawke laid hands on him. The feel of the man’s touch, firm and sure, was Fenris’ undoing. He began thrusting into Hawke’s grip, and on instinct leaned forward toward Hawke until his bonds were straining behind him, and licked from the mage’s collarbone to the shell of his ear, where he continued to nibble while soft, desperate moans were still escaping his lips. He wanted so badly to touch Hawke. He _needed_ to.

 

“Hawke," the elf whimpered into his lover’s ear, still gasping occasionally from Hawke’s ministrations as he began to speak, "I need to - _nn, that’s good_ \- taste you, Hawke. I want your – _yess_ \- cock in my mouth, Hawke, _please_.” His hips stuttered in Hawke’s grip at the thought of being able to taste his mage.

 

A moan tore out of Hawke when he saw Fenris leaning toward him, jagged and raw with desire. “Fenris, please,” Hawke whispered, knowing he was at the end of his control. “Mercy.” Exactly as he’d feared, a few husky, filthy words were enough for Fenris to shatter the remains of Hawke’s control, scattering them to the wind as though they’d never been. “Yes. Anything you want. Anything.” Hands shaking with need, Hawke lowered his smalls enough to free his cock. It was as hard as it had ever been, red and leaking silvery tears of arousal. Hawke watched Fenris, saw the hungry look on his face when he saw undeniable proof that Hawke wanted him, and his cock twitched eagerly in the cooler air of the room. “I can’t last,” Hawke confessed, fingers fluttering over the oversensitive skin at his tip. “I doubt this will be my best demonstration of stamina. You’re far too stimulating for me.” 

  
"I don’t care," Fenris rasped, his voice hoarse with lust, "I just need to taste…" And taste he did. Without further ado, Fenris attacked Hawke’s cock, moaning as he tasted the salty evidence of the man’s state of arousal. Fenris had some inkling of the effect he had on Hawke, but there was nothing so heady as seeing, and now tasting, the evidence for himself, erect, leaking and undeniable. A wicked smirk crossed his face as he let Hawke’s erection slide from his lips with a loud pop.

 

"Am I just too much for you, Champion? Dragons and ogres, no problem, but your lusty elf begging for you, and you come undone?"

 

Without waiting for an answer, Fenris returned to devouring Hawke, intent on making the mage make as many noises as possible before he came. He let his gaze travel up Hawke’s body as he sucked, taking in Hawke’s lips, gorgeously red and glistening, parted due to the soft gasps and moans that were escaping him. Every moan sent a jolt straight to Fenris’ cock, and he could feel every wave of Hawke’s arousal like it was his own. At this rate, he knew neither of them would last much longer. In his desire, Fenris had entirely forgotten about the restraints keeping his arms away, and with ease that would imply he was tied up with thread rather than sheets, he tore the fabric that bound him and placed both hands on either of Hawke’s hips, gripping them tightly and using them as handholds to fuck his mouth with Hawke’s cock.

 

Hawke could have kicked himself for putting this off for so long. What he’d been waiting for, he couldn’t comprehend, but whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it. This was everything he’d ever wanted, being enveloped in the perfect wet heat of Fenris’ mouth, the rasp of his tongue almost too much for Hawke’s frazzled nerves. Hypnotized, sighing moans began to spill from Hawke’s parted lips, his body shaking. When Fenris pulled back, he couldn’t stifle the whine of disappointed betrayal. He was relieved to discover his elf was only teasing him a little, and before he knew it, Hawke was taken in by his lover once again.

 

Fenris might have made light of Hawke’s weakness for him, but Hawke had no problem admitting to it. “Fenris, _yes_ ,” he groaned, fingers gentle in Fenris’ hair despite the tension singing through his body. “You undo me. You _destroy_ me, and I never want you to stop.” His voice shook, and Hawke could only watch as Fenris neatly broke his bonds and did his best to suck the wit right out of him. When Fenris broke free of his bonds as easily as brushing away a spider web, it spelled the end of Hawke. Whether it was the show of strength or the sudden increase in fervor was unclear, but Hawke gave one long, wavering cry, pouring everything he had into Fenris mouth with a swiftness and strength that left him lightheaded. Hawke continued to whimper and twitch as long as Fenris touched him, bending to kiss him senseless the second the elf released him. Many men wouldn’t have been eager to taste their own spend, but the traces of himself on Fenris’ tongue hardly put Hawke off, and the mage settled for a long, slow exploration of Fenris’ mouth.

 

Fenris moaned around Hawke’s cock at his words, and let out a low, hoarse shout as Hawke spilled himself into the elf’s mouth; the rich taste of his lover coupled with the bond through which he felt Hawke’s pleasure was too much, and Fenris came untouched, cock bobbing in the air as he striped himself with his own come. He was panting and a bit dizzy when Hawke swooped down and began ravaging his mouth, but the moment he did, Fenris’ vision clouded and he whined into his lover’s mouth, still-hard erection throbbing once more with need.

 

The elf pushed Hawke onto his back as they kissed, never breaking contact as Fenris straddled him and began grinding his cock into Hawke’s hip.

 

Hawke broke the kiss to drag his fingers through the streaks of Fenris’ spend, bringing them to his mouth to be licked clean. “Touch me,” he implored huskily, running his hands over his own chest and stomach, skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. “I can feel it, love, I’m so ready to get hard for you again, I just need a push.” In truth, the mage hadn’t gone completely soft even after the impressive climax he’d just had, groin heavy and sensitive. “Put your hands on me.” Hawke petted Fenris’ erection, guiding him to rock his hips at a different angle, so that the elf’s hard cock caressed Hawke’s softer one. The contact made Hawke moan, throwing his head back with an arch of his neck. “I want you to take yourself on me, Fenris.” He scooped up more of Fenris’ seed, reaching behind him to smear it over the elf’s entrance. Hawke’s erection was steadily returning, impossible to deny for long with Fenris as his inspiration. “Take my prick and ride me to your satisfaction.”

 

Fenris stared mutely as Hawke’s tongue darted out and tasted him, irises blown out with lust. There wasn’t a hint of green left in them, just as there wasn’t a single coherent thought in his head. He rocked into Hawke’s touch, hair falling softly in a curtain over his face, reddened and moist lips parted, mewling at the sensation of their erections grazing one another as he explored Hawke’s body with his fingertips.

  
  
As Hawke exposed his neck to the elf, Fenris leaned down on instinct and captured the man’s collarbone between his lips and _sucked_.  He timed his sucking with the thrust of his hips against Hawke’s, only pulling away when blood bloomed to the surface, coloring his lover’s skin a beautiful shade of purple and reveling in the guttural noises Hawke made in response. In the meantime, Hawke had slid a single finger inside of Fenris, and he tipped his head back with a groan at the sensation as he fucked himself on Hawke’s hand.

 

" _Nnn, yeess_ ,” was all Fenris was able to form at Hawke’s words as he hastily lined himself up with Hawke’s now fully erect and throbbing prick. Slowly, he sank down with a long, low groan of relief as Hawke began to fill him up, and he let out a huff of air as he bottomed out. Fenris didn’t even take a moment to adjust before he pulled himself up, thighs quivering, and let himself drop. He set a reasonably fast pace, some of the urgency of his desire gone now that he’d already come. The elf was tempted to just let his head fall back and ride the waves of pleasure, but watching Hawke’s face was too sensual to pass up.

 

Eyes dark, lips parted in a small “o”, silver hair swaying back and forth in front of his face with every raise of his hips, Fenris rode Hawke, eyes never leaving his lover’s. After a split-second decision, the warrior grasped Hawke by the throat and braced himself there, squeezing just so as he fucked himself on Hawke’s cock. By the stutter of his lover’s hips and the strained moans he was making, Fenris assumed he made the right call.

 

Maker only knew what great feat Hawke had performed to be graced with such a sensual, beautiful partner. Fenris was a vision above him, slim hips moving, rising, rolling in an erotic dance specifically calculated to make the elf’s nerves sing with ecstasy. Hawke panted as their eyes met, stripped bare under that hooded gaze, knowing that his heart was in his eyes, that he couldn’t hide exactly how much it aroused him to be ridden, taken, used like this. Fenris was treating Hawke like he was a tool, built solely for Fenris’ pleasure. Hawke couldn’t deny that he loved it.

 

And Fenris knew. Of course he knew. Hawke moaned brokenly, bucking up into his lover, matching the pace and rhythm that the elf set. Hawke might have been inside Fenris, but it was obvious who was in control this time. He didn’t so much as flinch when Fenris’ hand found his throat, even when that strong hand began to slowly squeeze, restricting the flow of air Hawke was allowed. His eyes rolled back, sparks leaping off his skin. Moans and weak cries continued to spill from his lips, his cock aching with pleasure as it plunged into Fenris’ body.

 

Hawke couldn’t bear sensations so intense, his nerves humming while his body felt strangely light. He was losing his mind. Calloused fingers dug bruises into Fenris’ hips, jerking him down harder, faster, the slap of their skin deafening to Hawke’s ears. His heart was pounding, vision fuzzy at the edges, but he’d never felt better in all his life. “ _Don’t stop_ ,” he rasped, mouthing the words when his voice wouldn’t come. “ _Please_ , _Ser. **Fuck** me_.”

One of Hawke’s favorite names to tease Fenris with was ‘Ser Elf’, and he used it so regularly that Fenris didn’t even roll his eyes over it any longer. This was the first time such a thing had invaded the bedroom, and Hawke was so out of his head, he didn’t realize what he’d done.

 

Fenris’ mouth fell open in a wordless moan at Hawke’s unexpected use of the title, his dick throbbing in a wave of arousal.

 

"I have no intention of stopping," Fenris murmured, his voice a deep, rough purr. "I’m going to ride you until I come again, and _then_ I’m going to fuck you until we both black out.” Tapping into some animalistic instinct, the elf activated the lyrium in his hand around Hawke’s throat, adding a gentle vibrating pleasure to the contact between their skin as he tightened his grip on Hawke’s throat a tad more. “Do you understand?” He let out a breathless laugh at the enthusiastic response Hawke gave him. “You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you, Hawke?” He pondered for a moment as he rode Hawke, a thoughtful expression flitting across his face. “I like the sound of that. _My_ slut. You’re _mine_ ,” he growled, slamming his hips down on Hawke’s dick forcefully, moaning thickly at the way Hawke’s cock-head brushed against his prostate with every thrust.

If Fenris was coherent he would wonder how he could form words at all, much less tap into this unexpected eloquent dominance. And he would most definitely blanch at the filthy way he was addressing Hawke.

 

If Hawke could have drawn the breath for it, he would have yelled his assent, begged for Fenris to own him now and never let him go. As it was, he could only give strangled, half-swallowed whimpers, tears of overwhelmed pleasure filling his eyes at the addition of Fenris’ lyrium to everything else he was feeling. He couldn’t hold on. He couldn’t last. Every dirty sentence, every dominating word that Fenris spoke plucked at nerves low in Hawke’s body, winding him up, and all that tension just had to snap.

  
Hawke came _hard_ , his lips parted wide on a long, desperate moan that was silent with no breath behind it. He jammed his hips up hard enough to lift Fenris’ body, the orgasm so intense he felt like his skin was too small to contain the swell of it. It seemed to go on forever, though Hawke knew it couldn’t have been more than several pleasure-drenched seconds. For that short, blissful stretch of time, Hawke completely lost himself in it.

He came back to himself when he heard Fenris’ deep, rumbling groan, warmth spattering Hawke’s heaving chest and stomach. Fenris’ head was thrown back as he came, his hands scratching down Hawke’s body and leaving long lines of pink on his pale skin. Dragging in ragged breaths, Hawke groaned quietly, rubbing at the places where his hands had held Fenris too tightly, bruises beginning to form.

 

Fenris’ erection didn’t soften a bit. Hawke felt a warm curl of anticipation in his belly as he realized he was about to get the fucking he’d been promised. The elf climbed off of Hawke, graceful still despite the powerful orgasm he’d just had. Just looking at him made Hawke’s spent cock twitch. “Ser,” Hawke sighed, his voice raw and rough from Fenris’ hand on his throat. He trailed his fingers down his chest, dragging them through the pearly white Fenris had left on him. “I want you, Ser. Please, let me show you how much.”

 

Fighting his embarrassment, Hawke placed his feet flat on the bed, knees parted. He blushed scarlet, knowing that Fenris could see _everything_. It was humiliating, but Hawke felt his groin stirring again. His hand crept lower, fingers dripping with Fenris’ seed, and he pressed one long finger to his entrance, circling and rubbing. While his other hand wrapped his spent cock, chasing the flutters of renewed pleasure, Hawke pushed two fingers inside himself, gasping at the intrusion and startling heat. He began to fuck himself with his fingers, moaning and panting, letting go of his embarrassment to give Fenris the best show possible.

 

Fenris licked his parted lips, gaze dark and lusty as he watched Hawke beg for him, and when his lover pushed two fingers inside himself, he moaned out loud, a deep, carnal noise that came from deep within him. He began stroking his cock absentmindedly, eyes flicking from Hawke’s flushed face to the delicious show he was being given. He leaned forward and rested his head against his mage’s knee, pressing soft but heated kisses to his lover’s thigh.

 

"You are absolutely _obscene_ ,” Fenris growled as he met Hawke’s gaze, teeth nipping at the man’s thigh as he stroked himself, moaning at the needy noises Hawke was making under his own ministrations. “Are you ready for my cock, then?” The elf pressed the head of his dick against Hawke’s inner thigh, enjoying the whimpers elicited from the Champion. “Tell me how ready, love. Let me hear how much you want me, how much of a slut you are for your Ser Elf’s cock in you.”

 

“Please,” Hawke whined, his ankle situating itself in the small of Fenris’ back as Hawke tried to pull him forward. “Ser, _please_ , I’m going mad for want of you.” He tilted his hips up hungrily, groaning when Fenris continued to tease him without mercy. “I’m so ready,” he gasped, burying a third finger in himself and twisting, biting back the cry this produced. His cock was full and hard again, reddened flesh sensitive after the climaxes he’d had. “I’m your slut, Ser, please use me.” Hawke’s ragged voice filled the room, loud enough that he’d be mortified if he had any sense left to waste on such things. “Fuck me until I can’t remember what it’s like not to be full of your cock.”

 

His hips began to roll helplessly in time to the thrusts of his fingers inside himself. He whimpered, tossing his head back as a shudder of need wracked his frame. No matter how hard he pushed, Hawke couldn’t get deep enough, the ache building in his foundation sweet and awful. He knew exactly what he needed, exactly what would relieve the pressure, what would unwind the knot that Hawke’s fingers couldn’t reach. “I _need_ you. Anything you want, Ser, _please_.”

 

Fenris growled, deep and lustful as a shiver coursed through him, grabbing Hawke’s hand and lined himself up to Hawke’s entrance, his whole body pulsing a deep, dark hazy blue as he sucked on the fingers that had just been buried deep within his lover. He moaned at the taste of the mingling tastes, dark and musky on his tongue. He slid into Hawke in one slow, fluid thrust, thighs trembling with need. He bit down on the fingers in his mouth before slipping them from his lips with a wet pop.

 

“ _Hawke_ ,” Fenris groaned brokenly as he grasped his lover’s parted thighs, hips snapping upward. “Don’t hold back, love. I want everyone in the whole of bloody Kirkwall to hear what a slut you are for your Ser Elf’s cock.” He thrust into Hawke’s perfect heat, enveloping him until that was all he knew. “I want to hear every _whimper_ ,” he growled, “every _groan_ , every _moan_ , every _curse_ , every _cry_ of my name, do you understand me?” He accentuated each noun with a thrust of his hips, tanned fingers digging into Hawke’s pale flesh as each snap of his hips brushed the head of his cock across Hawke’s prostate.

 

"I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly you won’t be able to stand in the morning, Hawke," Fenris groaned, biting into the meat of Hawke’s inner thigh and sucking, leaving a beautiful purple bruise framed by pink teeth marks. The sight of Hawke’s flesh marked by him made his cock respond eagerly, growing even harder inside his lover.

 

Already flushed cheeks darkened as his fingers were sucked into the elf’s hot mouth. Hawke’s mouth dropped open on a low moan, the way Fenris’ tongue and teeth teased his fingers making him shiver and twitch. “ _Ser_!” he cried sweetly as Fenris pushed inside of him, plunging his cock directly into the heart of the ache that had been driving Hawke mad. Hawke nearly sobbed, body arching at that first perfect thrust. “More! I need— _yes!_ ” Before Hawke could even finish the thought, Fenris was driving into him, hard and deep and at an angle so exact Hawke couldn’t even hope to control the volume of his moans.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hawke wondered if he should be worried about the fact that his voice was echoing off the walls, no doubt spilling from the windows for any passersby to hear. But Fenris wanted to hear his voice, and nothing in Hawke was able to muster the faintest hint of resistance to _anything_ his Ser Elf desired. “Fuck,” he hissed, cock jerking in his fist at the flash of pain from Fenris’ teeth in his thigh, the sensation racing along his nerves like fire to tinder.

 

The heat built inside him, uncontrollable and potent, indistinguishable from the agonizing delight he was drowning in. “I—Ser, I think— _Maker_!” Hawke couldn’t form the words to warn Fenris how close he was, or rather, how close he _thought_ he was. The magic in Hawke was roiling beneath his skin, twisting and crashing in response to both his ecstasy and the lyrium in his lover. As Hawke bucked beneath Fenris, crying his name, small, soft flames began to roll off of his skin, fall from his hair, leak from the corners of his eyes like glowing tears. Most evaporated as soon as they lost contact with his body, but a stubborn few landed on the sheets to singe and darken, sending up weak tendrils of smoke.

 

 

This was a different sort of release than the height of a climax, but it carried a pleasure all its own, a stream of needy, desperate whimpers rising in Hawke’s throat. He grabbed onto Fenris’ arms, blunt nails digging into his flesh as Hawke tried to withstand the intensity of Fenris’ claiming.

 

 

At first, Fenris was too busy losing himself in the perfect heat that was Hawke to notice, but when he heard the first sizzle his eyes snapped open.

His hips stuttered to a stop as he took in the scene before him. Hawke’s skin was literally ablaze, and it took a moment for his sluggish brain to register what he was seeing.

 

 

"Hawke, what in the name of _Andraste_ -” he broke off midsentence as a stray flame licked across his palm. It didn’t burn; rather, the flame spanned out across his markings, the reddish hue turning the same dusky coral blue that the elf himself was alight with, and he groaned at the sensation. Hips still immobile, Fenris ran an experimental hand across Hawke’s midriff, moaning at the sight of his mage’s passion turned corporeal under his touch, blue flames chasing a gentle trail across his lover’s skin, singing a melody of lust and desire in his veins. He leaned down and licked the fiery trail of tears from Hawke’s chin to the corner of his eye, hands manipulating the flames with a controlled ease that came from instinct alone.

 

 

With a wordless groan, Fenris renewed his previous pace with vigor, mapping Hawke’s body with his hands and reveling in the foreign sensation, tattoos pulsing in time with his thrusts. His fingertips lit a path across his lover’s skin, tracing patterns downward and he shoved Hawke’s thighs down, hands digging into the place where the mage’s legs met his groin. The elf leaned forward, heated gaze full of dark promises as he fixed his eyes on his lover, and gave Hawke’s throbbing prick a long, languid lick before taking him to the hilt. His thrusts never slowed as he began sucking his mage’s cock, moan rumbling in his chest at the tingle of magic and spark of flame on his tongue, and the lyrium tattooed on his throat hummed in unison with the magic Hawke was emitting.

 

 

Hawke gasped a protest when Fenris stopped thrusting, his entire body throbbing until he felt like one raw, aching nerve, suspended and waiting for Fenris’ next move. He canted his hips, trying to spur his lover back into action, but the reaction of Fenris’ lyrium against the flames flowing from Hawke’s skin was impossible to ignore. A tingling pleasure spread everywhere the blue flames caressed him, sinking into his muscles and soaking him in lust. More flame welled from him, the mage helpless to stop the outpour though he knew it was dangerous. Somehow, he knew he could trust Fenris to control it when Hawke’s own grip on his magic faltered.

 

 

“Harder,” he encouraged when Fenris began pounding into him again, “Give me _everything_ you’ve got.” Hawke had no idea what he was getting himself into, couldn’t even imagine what happened next. He’d known that Fenris was limber, as flexible as any dancer, but never had considered what that might mean when those particular talents were used on _him_. Fenris bent to Hawke’s groin, still buried balls-deep inside of him, and swallowed Hawke’s prick with an ease that put the entire staff at the Rose to shame.

 

 

Hawke would never admit it later, but he screamed his throat raw when he came.

The surge of magic that erupted then blackened the sheets with fire, Hawke’s hips stuttering as he poured his pleasure into Fenris gorgeously strong, sucking mouth. Fenris gentled his ministrations as Hawke’s climax began to taper, but to the mage’s confusion, he didn’t release him. At Hawke’s questioning noise, Fenris thrust hard against his prostate, dragging a rough shout from him. Perhaps it was the pheromones Fenris was filling his nose with, or the perfectly placed thrusts, or the warm wetness around his cock, or the tingle of magic touching things in him that no one should have been able to reach, but Hawke didn’t soften at all. He remained as desperately, blessedly hard as he’d been when they started, oversensitivity burning on his tender, blushing skin. “What are you—I can’t, I _can’t_ , Ser, _please_!” Hawke panted the words, half-heartedly trying to push Fenris’ head away.

 

 

Fenris grinned ferally, moaning around Hawke’s pulsing cock at the taste of his lover in his mouth. He remained where he was, slowing and gentling his thrusts as he rode Hawke through his orgasm. The elf ignored his lover’s weak protests as he continued to suck, humming in pleasure at the desperate noises Hawke was making. Once he had his fill, he gave Hawke’s still deliciously hard dick one last, long suck before allowing it to fall from his mouth with a pop, dark eyes eyes full of promises locking with Hawke’s.

 

  
  


"You think I’m through with you?" Fenris growled almost possessively, accentuating his words with a sharp roll of his hips. "I told you I would fuck you until we both blacked out, and that’s _exactly_ what I’m going to do." Without another word, Fenris slipped his lithe arms beneath Hawke, sliding one leg to the floor to brace himself as he left the other tucked beneath him before pulling Hawke bodily to him with ease. A moan ripped through him as he claimed his lover’s mouth in a filthy, claiming kiss, thrusting up into the heart of his lover as he held Hawke close. There was hardly any part of them that wasn’t touching now, and though the magical flames of Hawke’s passion had dimmed after his climax, they didn’t dissipate completely. Everywhere their skin touched there were sparks, and flames skittered under the contact, dancing between a deep red and bright, bright blue as Fenris pounded mercilessly into his lover. He wrapped one hand firmly across his Champion’s shoulders and dragged his nails down Hawke’s back before gripping the man’s hip hard enough to bruise.

 

 

"You’re _mine_ ," Fenris panted hotly into Hawke’s ear. "Just as I am yours, and I’m _never_ going to let you forget it." He could feel his orgasm creeping up on him, like the tide slipping out before the waves crashed down mercilessly on the shore in a storm. "I won’t last, at this rate," he moaned, the pace and fervency with which he thrust up into Hawke increasing. "Moan for me, love, let me hear you." The elf muffled a sharp cry into the meat of Hawke’s neck where he pressed heated kisses to the fiery skin before him.

  
  


Hawke wrapped his arms around Fenris as the elf pulled him close, the resistance melting out of him with the filthy press of Fenris’ tongue. He might have put up a token protest, but they both knew that he wanted to be handled exactly the way Fenris was handling him. Hawke wanted to see this game through to the end, and he’d placed his trust and his body fully into his elf’s hands. This was sex like Hawke had never had it, and he couldn’t chalk it all up to the heat. There was something more to it, something so powerful it nearly frightened Hawke. It was also so good he thought he was losing his mind, and just then, he was more than willing to dive into the madness.

 

 

“Stay,” Hawke implored, hands glowing blue where they grasped at Fenris’ back, the flames he couldn’t control shifting and changing where they met the elf’s power, becoming even more beautiful as a result. “Please, Ser. Please stay.” Everything Fenris had said, his possessive words, the promises he’d made; Hawke couldn’t bear for those things to disappear once the fog of passion cleared from their minds. It would destroy him, the second time.

 

He cried out weakly when Fenris’ pace increased, head falling back with his moans. The flames began to flare on his skin once again as he built toward a climax that he wasn’t honestly sure he could have. After as many orgasms as Hawke had experienced, his balls were aching, and he would have sworn that he was empty. It didn’t seem to matter; the pleasure was there. “Ahh, _fuck_!” His head whipped back and forth as his body strained, reaching for that last twist of pleasure despite Hawke’s protest that he had nothing left to give. He left long scratches on his lover’s back, tipping over the edge and dropping headfirst into a climax like he’d never had. The spasms started deep inside, trembling outward to his limbs and twitching cock, only a dribble of clear liquid squeezing from his tip. Hawke arched backward, blinded by ecstasy and supported only by Fenris’ strength.

 

He mewled as his head began to spin, the exertions of the evening catching up in a rush. Hawke’s body was unaccustomed to what was, for an elf, a normal biological function. He couldn’t process it all, and finally, his body gave out. Hawke slid into darkness like he would a warm bath, and found it equally as comforting. Everything was perfect.

 

"I am _never_ leaving you again,” Fenris growled passionately in Hawke’s ear as his impending orgasm sped toward him.

 

When Hawke spasmed around him, screaming his climax in the elf’s ear, Fenris cried out one final time and buried his teeth into his lover’s shoulder, head spinning as his own climax slammed into him. “ _Hawke_ ,” he cried roughly as he thrust, spilling himself into the mage as flames danced on them and around him. His lover went limp in his arms, and Fenris slowly lowered him to the bed before collapsing on top of him, utterly spent. Darkness rushed forward to meet him like a long-forgotten friend, and he nuzzled into Hawke’s neck one last time before succumbing to unconsciousness.

 

  


 

 


	4. Aftermath

Both of them slept heavily and deeply, and most of the next day passed before either of them awoke. Fenris stirred, slowly climbing into consciousness, and let out a thick groan at the ache that seemed to permeate his entire body, green eyes slowly sliding open to face the day. His heart stopped, then kickstarted in double-time as his eyes met Hawke’s tender gaze. The man was propped up on one elbow in Fenris’ bed, stark naked and covered in bruises and scratches.

Everything that passed between them last night hit Fenris with the force of an ogre, and he groaned again, this time in shame, pulling the blankets up around his midriff to hide his erection that surged to life at the memories.

"Hawke," he began, his voice rough and gravelly from its use the night before. "I am… sorry seems inadequate. Is there any way you can forgive me for what I’ve done to you? T-those things I said to you, and you’re _covered_ in bruises,” Fenris said in horror. In his lust-addled stupor he had taken advantage of Hawke, called him demeaning things and had his way with the man. “Please tell me there is something I can do to make this right. I would never have taken advantage of you so had I been in my right head.”

 He ran his hand down Fenris’ body, pushing down the blanket as he went. Grasping Fenris’ erection, Hawke gave him a nice, slow pull, humming with enjoyment at just the feel of that flesh against his palm. “In case you’re not up to understanding subtlety,” he purred with a sultry smile, “I’m telling you that I was a more than willing participant in everything that happened last night. I wanted it. I begged you for it, don’t you remember? I thoroughly enjoyed being your slut, Fenris, and am looking forward to the next time we play that game.”

 It was too soon for Hawke to feel anything productive in his body, but he was still quite aroused despite the lack of outward signs. “I’ll need tea and the salve, love. I’m not quite up to healing myself.” That was a lie. Hawke could feel that his mana was depleted, but he had more than enough to give himself at least a cursory healing. He just wanted to _feel_ it for a while longer.

 The elf couldn’t help the way his pulse leapt at Hawke’s words and tender expression. He had not thought to hear those words, not after he left.

Fenris let out a strangled moan as Hawke gently tugged on his erection, head slumping back on the pillow in defeat. “You are not-” he bit his lip to hold back another moan as his mage continued to stroke him slowly, his words coming out breathless, “angry with me?” The elf was helpless to prevent the spark of heat that coiled within him at the word “slut” on Hawke’s tongue.

He nodded at his lover’s request and sat up, groaning yet again as he stumbled out of the bed. He wasn’t quite as abused as Hawke was, but the elf still had his fair share of bruises.

"You, ah, caught on fire, last night," Fenris said casually over his shoulder as he staggered across the room, still sporting a healthy erection, to find the healing salve he had tucked away. Once he grabbed it he turned to collect the spare cup of tea left sitting from last night. As he made his way back to the bed, he added, "Does that happen often?" Fenris handed Hawke both items before climbing back into the bed, limbs still agile despite the screaming protest his muscles gave. 

Hawke had meant for Fenris to get his salve and tea _after_ Hawke was finished with him. It was sweet, really, how Fenris had drawn away to putter about the room, collecting items that Hawke requested, though the mage wasn’t pleased with the guilt he could see hiding in Fenris’ expression. “I’ve never caught fire before,” Hawke denied as he quickly used a soft touch of magic to heat the tea, enjoying the soothing feeling of the hot liquid down his abused throat. “I’ve also never screamed or begged. You really put me through my paces last night. It all felt so good, I couldn’t control myself. Maker, Fenris, I’ve _never_ been fucked like that. ”

 He passed the rest of the tea to Fenris. “Drink up. We both did more than our share of yelling last night.” Hawke opened up the salve and rubbed some between his hands, the fresh, herbaceous scent of it making him feel a bit more alert. Reaching for Fenris’ cock, Hawke began to stroke him again, the salve providing more than enough slickness to smooth his motions. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re already hard again. Your body is so resilient. I’m a little jealous.”

 "Never?" The elf couldn’t help the small swell of pride in his chest at that knowledge, especially considering last night was his first foray into topping. Hawke was his first true sexual partner, and the last time they had been together Hawke was the one doing the fucking.

Fenris gratefully sipped at the tea he was offered, and had just barely set the cup on its saucer when Hawke got hold of him. He moaned quietly, hips stuttering into Hawke’s frictionless grip.

“ _I_  am surprised at your eagerness today, considering the ordeal we both went through last night,” Fenris said dryly, though the breathless way his voice came out ruined the effect somewhat. His eyes fluttered shut of their own accord, and his head fell back onto his shoulders with a swish of his hair, neck arching beautifully in the dim light that the curtains allowed. “ _Hawke_ ,” he breathed, a whimper escaping his lips. His eyes grew dark with lust, and he fixed Hawke with his intense gaze. “I meant what I said last night,” Fenris said huskily. “I intend to remain by your side, for as long as you’ll have me.”

 “I cannot seem to help myself. I want to touch you.” Hawke didn’t understand his own hunger for Fenris’ skin, but it might have been the memories of the way the elf had taken him the night before prompting such desire. “It helps that you’re beautiful in pleasure.” He pressed the length of his body to Fenris’ side, thrilling at the feel of his lover shaking and moving in response to his touch. This was a heady power, indeed.

 “Let’s start with forever, and move on from there.” Kissing Fenris’ throat, Hawke began pumping him faster, so thoroughly excited he couldn’t believe that he wasn’t getting hard yet. “Are you staying in your mansion, or will you move into the estate?” He wasn’t truly concerned with the answer. Either way, Fenris wasn’t far from home. Hawke just loved hearing the elf struggle to string coherent thoughts together, the more impassioned he became. 

"As-  _mmn -_ as are you, love,” Fenris replied, his voice thick with pleasure. “Seeing you as you were last night, in the throes of passion,” the elf moaned at the feel of Hawke’s grip around him, and chuckled at the irony, “it was a privilege to witness.”

His heart thudded heavily in his chest at Hawke’s words. Forever was an excellent place to start, and there was no one he would rather spend his life with. 

He moaned Hawke’s name, hips grinding into his lover’s grip. “I-I don’t know,” Fenris stammered, his words halting and his thoughts clouded by the pleasure Hawke was inflicting on him. “Let me-” he broke off with another moan, louder this time, “think on it?” His words were breathless and his hips were thrusting upward with more fervor, his gasps of air coming in harsh pants as he drew nearer to the edge.

“ _Hawke_ ,” Fenris groaned, “I-  _mm_ \- I am close.”

 “Take your time,” Hawke rumbled into the skin of Fenris’ throat, lips soft against a dark bruise. “Thinking, that is.” He stared down the length of his lover’s body, admiring the helpless way Fenris rocked up into his hand. That Fenris trusted him enough to lose control while Hawke retained it was enough of an unspoken promise to keep the mage warm and giddy for years to come.

Hawke’s rhythm changed, as rough and efficient as any dockside whore’s. “Don’t hold back. I want to watch you fall apart. Give me a reason to lick you clean, Fenris.” The elf cried his name, and Hawke moaned under his breath as he rode the sudden bucking of Fenris’ body, weak spurts of pearly seed streaking up his tattooed skin. Hawke was lapping up the evidence of Fenris’ pleasure before the elf had stopped shaking.

A low noise lodged in Hawke’s chest as he realized again how lucky he was, and how grateful, to be where he was, to be able to touch and please the one person in Thedas he most wanted to protect. “Catch your breath, love.” Hawke kissed Fenris’ hip, tasted the salt of his sweat, and thanked the Maker again. “I’ll need your hands steady to help me apply the salve.” He smirked and arched a brow. Perhaps his body could be coaxed back to readiness, with patience and enough salve. Now, they had time in excess, and if they ended up spending the day in bed, Hawke would consider it a day well spent.

Hawke knew that this relationship wouldn’t always be easy. They both knew that. But neither of them had gotten to where they were because they were content with the easy road. What mattered was choosing the _right_ path. With Fenris finally by his side again, his companion in every sense of the word, all paths held true. Every road led home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end of this one! Thanks for being so patient and sticking with us this long, hope it was worth it. Leave a comment, let us know what you thought. 
> 
> Feel free to come party with us on tumblr! Shoot us some prompts of things you might want to see in future fics, or just come over and talk Dragon Age headcanons until the wee morning hours. 
> 
> Seluvia (Hawke) is hanging out at http://hahahawke.tumblr.com 
> 
> A_pondicus (Fenris) can be found at http://lyriumandbrandy.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> *Uth means “eternal, and “vhenan’ara means heart’s desire, according to the Dragon Age wiki’s page on elvish language. So Uthen Vhenan’ara literally translates to the “Eternal Heart’s Desire.” I’m sure some meaning gets lost in translation, and in its original form it wouldn’t sound quite so hokey.


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